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“He’s a famous professional football player.” Drew, Clayton’s best friend, slides the chair out across from him and sits down.
“Hey, boys.” Laurel stands and heads back behind the counter. She grabs two plates and puts cupcakes on them. “Didn’t want to be at the parade?”
She puts the plates on their table. Drew picks his up before the plate is barely on the table, takes off the wrapper, and bites down, purple frosting smearing across his lips.
Meanwhile, Clayton stares longingly out the window where the parade should be rounding the corner after it ends to head back to the parking lot of The Farm Fresh.
“Hell no.” Clayton sinks in his chair. He looks so big now with his long legs stretched out in front of him. Is that really my baby boy in a fourteen-year-old’s body?
“Hey, language,” I say.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s just… the whole town shuts down for him. And you should see how the girls are all talking about him.”
“You’re just upset because Kait didn’t give you the time of day.” Drew piles the last of his cupcake in his mouth, crumbs scattering around his plate and his shirt.
“I don’t like Kait.”
Drew glances at me from the corner of his eye. We both know Clayton likes Kait. He’s had a crush on her since the third grade.
“He is a celebrity of sorts.” Laurel brings Drew another cupcake.
“He’s not a celebrity,” Clay says. “He played football. Probably has that brain disease now.”
“Clay…” The warning in my tone should make it clear to him that that’s nothing to joke about.
He straightens in his seat. “He’s all everyone’s talking about.”
“Well, who else came out of this town and made it big?” I ask.
“The hype will die down.” Laurel glances at me as if she’s reassuring the both of us.
“Coach wants us all at The Farm Fresh when the parade is done to meet him.” Drew stands from the table just as the marching band reaches Laurel’s bakery window.
I don’t want to look. I saw him, and now it’s over. Except our eyes met briefly, and now I can’t stop thinking about those brown eyes that used to look at me as if I hung the moon. As if I were everything to him. But that all changed when he went to Clemson. I naively believed in that look—that we’d be the rare ones to make it work.
“Come on, Clay,” Drew says.
My son takes about as long to get up as it does when I ask him to take out the trash. I understand his feelings toward Ben. I’m sure he’s heard the rumors around town. He used to love Ben when he was younger. Couldn’t believe that a pro player came out of our small town. He used to say he’d go to Clemson just like Ben Noughton. All through it, I’d bite my lip because, to a kid, his mom didn’t have a life before he came along.
Something shifted about a month ago, and although Clayton’s never asked me outright, he knows. I know he does. How could he not, with the high school still showcasing the prom picture with Ben and me as king and queen? I wish I had the guts to talk to Clay about it rather than what I’ve been doing, which is ignoring the subject completely. But now Ben is home, and I’m not sure I can put it off anymore.
“If Coach wants you there, go. And be respectful.” I raise my eyebrows and tilt my head. It’s my serious “mom” look.
He blows out a breath, and Laurel’s shoulders sink, watching this play out. Clayton walks over and wraps his arms around me, hugging me. The move surprises me, but I take the opportunity to squeeze him hard because hugs are rare these days. I fear what my life will be like once he’s grown and out of the house.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
There it is. He knows more than any boy should about his mom’s broken heart.
“I’m great. Go, and we’ll order pizza tonight.” I rub his back, and he steps away.
“I’m down for pizza,” Drew says, taking the bag of cookies Laurel’s holding out to him.
“When aren’t you hungry?” Clayton walks toward his friend. “Thanks, Laurel. Bye, Mom.”
The door shuts, and once they’re out of sight, my forehead falls to the counter. “Oh my god.”
“Well, that big secret you were trying to keep is definitely out in the open.” Laurel pushes a plate with a cookie on it toward me.
